


the only cure for fear is blame

by CigaleDesNeiges



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, Canon Divergence, Gen, Interrogation, POV Declan Lynch, Song Inspired, and a bit of speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CigaleDesNeiges/pseuds/CigaleDesNeiges
Summary: Declan had always known his days were counted, whether by way of a gun between his shoulder blades or otherwise.  He only hoped he could save his brothers on his way out, and, if he had the choice, leave this world as quietly as he had lived in it.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24
Collections: TRC Fic Drabbles With Friends!





	the only cure for fear is blame

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by The Torch Committee by Josh Ritter, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSdU_ZDF9Ok)! The title and lyrics are from the song as well.
> 
> (The goal was to write a short fic inspired by a song in a few days, so this is not betaed, but [pixiedustatsundown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedustatsundown/pseuds/pixiedustatsundown) helped a lot with brainstorming and encouragement!)

_Good evening, may we say again  
How pleased we are that you've come in  
The day was long, your bed was soft  
Still there's some names we're crossing off  
It says here by your file you  
Have been so loyal, brave, and true_

“Declan Lynch.” The man looked at his clipboard. He did not introduce himself. Facing Declan, they were mirror images of each other, black suit, white collared shirt, grey tie. In Declan, the attire helped him fade into the background, invisible to all. This man clearly used his suit for intimidation purposes. Unfortunately for him, Declan was not intimidated. 

“Thank you for making the time to come in. We know you’re very busy.” Declan did not point out that he had been forced here by way of an judiciously placed gun behind his shoulder blade while he was making his way home from work. It didn’t seem relevant.

“We won’t keep you long. We think you can help us.” 

He also didn’t point out that his hands had been handcuffed behind him, an action that had been accompanied by a friendly “you don’t mind, do you? You know how these things go. You can never be too careful.”

“We understand your brother," (he checked his notes) "Ronan Lynch, is a Zed. You know what a Zed is, I assume?” Declan’s expression didn’t change. He was good at keeping secrets. “Someone who can take objects out of his dreams,” the man clarified. “Unfortunately, we’ve got it on good authority that these Zeds are going to bring about the apocalypse, if we’re not careful. Tragic, isn’t it?” 

“Now,” he added, “let’s have a little chat about Ronan. I hear the property he lives in – the Barns, correct? – is very beautiful, should you be able to get past the security system. One of our agents dropped in this morning. You really should tell him to lock his front door.”

Declan internally cursed Ronan and his dreamt security system. He wondered what a Dreamer hunter saw when he drove up the lane to the Barns. Did he remember the innocent lives he had taken? Did guilt overtake him? Or did those deaths not even register as a bad memory?

“Now, Declan. I’m sure you understand our predicament. You’ve done nothing technically wrong, of course, though running in the same circles as Zeds without reporting them doesn’t look great on your file... And we can’t have your brother setting the whole world on fire, now, can we?”

Declan had always known his days were counted, whether by way of a gun between his shoulder blades or otherwise. He only hoped he could save his brothers on his way out, and, if he had the choice, leave this world as quietly as he had lived in it. He would do what it took to avoid drawing attention to Ronan and his dreaming, to Matthew and his potential lack of internal organs and definite lack of fingerprints. 

He had been doing what was necessary for years. He hoped he could do it a little bit longer. 

“He was so easy to find, your brother. I’ve got a man there right now, waiting for your decision. He’s watching Ronan pick some peaches as we speak, in fact. It’s rather quaint isn’t it? Picking peaches? Who knew people still did that by hand? You’d think there were machines to do the job nowadays. Anyway. You brother could disappear so easily, and be missed by so few.” The man’s expression hardened. “You realize that, don’t you, Declan?”

Ronan had never been careful, Declan knew, though he wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t value his life, or because he overestimated his skill. It was not hard to imagine that he had been closely watched for weeks, if not longer. Really, the most surprising part of this was that he had been spared. So far. 

“So,” the man continued, “I have an offer for you. If you could just take a peek at Appendix 3? It’s nothing to worry about, just a list of people we hope you can help us find. Mór Ó Corra, that’s your mother, of course. A Zed. Adam Parrish, he seems to have some psychic abilities. Visions, perhaps? We're very interested in visions. Jordan Hennessey, also a Zed… Take a look at the rest of the list.”

Declan looked at the paper, names upon names, addresses and workplaces and family members. People he knew from the Fairy Market, people his father had worked with, distant family friends… 

_We know the monsters, know their names  
By which they go and which they've changed  
And every whisper that we've heard  
We've read their poison, every word  
How we wish that we could say  
That each of them will walk away  
But sadly it's the awful truth  
It's them or us, it's them or you_

“Now, all we ask is some information from you. Lead us to a few Zeds, help us fill in some of the blanks on that Appendix 3. Just a little bit of help here and there, and the opportunity to save the world. In exchange, we’ll turn a blind eye on your brother and his little farm. We’d love to have you on our team.”

Declan thought of Aurora after his father died, forever asleep. Of Jordan, a dreamed copy of Hennessey, nothing without her dreamer. Of how much Adam meant to Ronan. Of whether Ronan would survive another loss. Of how much Jordan meant to him (when he allowed himself to consider the question, which he usually didn’t). He had been living with grief for so long, he wasn’t sure he knew anything else. Still, he thought of Jordan at the National Gallery of Art, Jordan in his attic, and how closely happiness had seemed for those brief moments.

Declan weighed his options. Neither one seemed particularly appealing.

“So, what will it be? It's them or us.” The gun was back between his shoulder blades. “And if you’re against us, so is Ronan. That goes without saying.” 

“Just a quick signature here, and we’ll be all set.”

Luckily, he had never truly let himself hope for happiness.

_There, now see, that wasn't bad  
As you leave, you can be glad  
That you have done your little part  
To fight the monsters in the dark  
But have a care, the night is cold  
Take a torch before you go  
And we will keep you safe and warm  
That's what the torch committee is for_


End file.
